


Hetalia: Kallistrate's Mini-ventures!

by Mama_Russia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adventure, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, One-Shots, Random - Freeform, Slice of Life, all that jazz, clearing drama, nothing to do with storyline, old values, simple short stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mama_Russia/pseuds/Mama_Russia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are little segments of Kallistrate's adventures (some fluff, some serious scenarios, whatever). They're usually random and don't have much to do with the main story-line I have for the other fanfic (Hetalia: Kallisrtate's Chronicle!). It's kinda like the chibi segments in the anime, or random strips in the manga :D<br/>So enjoy, and be sure to read the longer/serious fanfic I wrote if you haven't already~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kallistrate recognizes little Sealand!

**Mini-venture One: Kallistrate recognizes little Sealand!**

 

 

                It was exactly 10 minutes before this World Meeting would begin –in which all countries alike, in the meantime, would mingle within their small prattle before prim decisions and provocative complications came about later. Like a growing hum of various accents and diverse voices of all tones performing as a ballet of words and mindless expressive buzzing, is what Kallistrate liked to think of this. She scanned the entire room, giving a slight wave and smile to anyone that returned her gaze. She observed, out of the flustered drones, the most notable voices sprang out (like the pings of a high sharp e string) -the taunt of America, a hint of North Italy’s laughter, and a persistent hollering from Hungary.

       Kallistrate found it difficult to really mingle with any  _single_  group. England always welcomed his banters to her, but she’d look off and see Spain disheartened … but when she went to Spain, Prussia would be around to aggravate her… Russia called her to him once in a while, yet she could see that he seemed to enjoy his company with Belarus and Ukraine; and the evocative remembrance of making a fool out of herself in front of  **both**  Japan and Germany at the last gathering was more than mortifying.

       The recollection turned her attention to the two, who were not far off, chatting with the Italian brothers. North Italy looked back and smiled that big grin of his, “Athanasia, ciao!”

       She gestured back, hoping not to gain any attention to the other guys around him, “Hello, Feliciano!”

       Kallistrate regretted the reply, for now both Germany and Japan turned to see her. She blushed and softly waved, “Hello to you too, Ludwig. And Kiku.”

       Without giving them time to react, she walked away, down towards the bottom extent of the outsized table that centered the room. She leaned back and gazed out to the glass paneling. Her eyes fluttered to tail the trifling leaves as they pranced in the air by the spring gusts. They dawdled down to the terse grove below, in the center courtyard. But something, or someone, instantly caught her eye.

       “Matthew!” she gasped, calling out to the country closest to her, which was Canada. He was staggered by the calling of his name, as was his bear companion nestled in his arms.

       “Matthew!” she repeated, and grabbed his coat sleeve and pointed down to the enclosure, “Who is that?”

       He adjusted his glasses, clearing some blonde hair from his eyes, and looked down to whom she was directing to.

       “Oh,” he said in his meek faint voice, “That is Sealand.”

       “Sealand.” Kallistrate pronounced. With a determined face, she beamed at the thought, “He looks lonely, I’ll go talk to him.”

       Canada, still baffled, asked nervously, “W-wait, what about the meeting?”

       Kallistrate ignored the question and hurriedly made her way out of the enormous room. However, her friend England stopped her.

       “Hey, Athanasia, Francis said that you-”

       “I’m sorry, Arthur, dear, but I am busy right now. Ask me later, da?” and made a quick curtsy in apology before jogging out of his sight. She didn’t dare turn back, though Kallistrate was curious as to what England and France were talking about. She was out of the room and heading down to the lobby by the time the clock struck twelve.  Picking up pace, she grasped a handful of folds of her frilled dress, lifting up the extensive trimmings to give her legs more ambling space.

       “Where on earth are you going?” Austria beckoned in wonder when Kallistrate passed. She twirled to face him, “Oh, just outside…”

       He glanced at his wrist watch, his glasses slipping at the bridge of his nose, “But the meeting is about to start in-”

       “I know, I know,” she assured with a casual smile, stepping back to continue down the way to the courtyard, “I’m very sorry. Please be sure to continue the meeting without me if I do not return in time. Good day, Roderich.”

       With that, she was off with a back wave of her gloved hand.

       Finally out in the open spring air, Kallistrate immediately skimmed the forestry to sight the little country once more. She spotted him a couple yards away and, with cordial steps, walked over.

       He was springing up in the air, with his white ankle socks drooping each time he touched back to the ground. Kallistrate watched his outreached hands wave in the sky in some sort of bizarre gambol. He gave up with an exhausting huff and slumped down to the nearest bench. The tree behind him thankfully provided a decent amount of shade from the vivid noon sun. When Kallistrate was close enough to see his face, she noted the small grimace.

       In gracious silence, she sat beside him, and he looked up, not expecting her presence, “H-hello, miss!”

       He flashed a big smile, genuine but a feign, and she returned the greeting, “Hello. You are Sealand, yes?”

       His smile broadened, glad that this older country acknowledged him, “Yup, that’s me! You must be Greece’s sister, huh?”

       She nodded, but noticed his tired state. In a motherly nature, she took his slackened blue necktie and retightened it against his sailor shirt. He didn’t mind in the slightest, “Thank you, Kallistrate!”

       Another nod, “You’re very welcome… Eh, I saw you jumping around earlier. Do you mind if I ask why?”

       His frown came back, “Oh. My hat, it blew into the tree.”

       He pointed above them and Kallistrate could see his cerulean sailor-hat pleated between two thick branches.

       “I’m too small, I can’t reach it. And I can’t climb because the branches are too high.”

       She glanced back to him to notice the small blotted stains that marked his shirt and cerulean-dyed capris.

       “I can get it for you.” She smiled confidently. They both got up and Kallistrate began rolling up her long dress sleeves. The crimson ribbons that secured her thin wrists and shoulders were in the way, so she untied them each with just a slight pull at one end. Sealand chuckled gleefully, “You’ll really get it for me? Ah, but you might ruin your dress!”

       She was finished with the sleeves and now stared at the large tree, as if it was a mounted resisting enemy, blocking her way from the renounced sailor cap. She laughed at this, “Of course I’ll really get it. I don’t go back on my word. And this dress isn’t all that special, I have plenty more at home.”

       Kallistrate cautiously wrapped her right arm against the tree, and then the left. In a hasty flight of asset, she raised both legs to hoist herself up. A rending tear was heard in the quietness of the grove, but it didn’t stop her in the least. She reached over to the closest branch above, and seized it with an “umpf” escaping her poised lips. She held on at one end and was about to guide the other hand when another rip was heard, and she fell.

       “Ugh, it’s this dress! I can’t climb with all this lace.” Shockingly, and without giving much thought, Kallistrate clutched a lacy end of her dress and pulled across to the other side, ripping a layer off. Now her steel-toed heeled boots were exposed. In spite of this, she wasn’t satisfied, thinking more leg room was needed.

       Sealand beheld in perplexity as this refined country began ripping and destroying left and right at her dress until the red and black pile of frill and lace satisfied her enough. And on with the climb, she heaved herself up until she definitively reached the first row of branches. Off to the second, up the third…

       It was easy enough, and in a matter of minutes, she made it to the branches that held Sealand’s hat captive. He waved from below in excitement, “Over here, it’s over here! Be careful!”

       Kallistrate snickered in victory when she seized the hat; she tried her best to get down carefully. By the time she touched the base of the tree, she felt a jump would be the most effective way off. Kallsitrate braced herself, dangling her panty-hosed legs and stiffing her arms at the branch behind her. Before leaping, she saw the pile of ruined garbs by the bench.  _Well_ , she thought,  _his smile is worth it._

       She pushed off with the palms of her hands to jump down below her. In a frenzied mishap, however, one of her rolled sleeves accidently clinched at the tousled twigs, being caught at the moment of the jump. She lost balance as the tug made her fall to one side in midair. Her landing was missed, and she fell directly on her right shoulder.

       “Oh no! Kallistrate, you okay?!” Sealand gasped in panic, running to the maiden’s side as she tried to get up. Someone else ran to them, “Kallistrate!”

       Refusing assistance, Kallistrate got up slowly. She smiled and upturned the hat, “See? I got it!”

       Sealand took it gratefully, “Thank you, thank you, Kallistrate!” quickly setting it back on his head, tucking away some sandy hair within the blue band. The other country that ran over quickly checked for any cuts, “Athanasia, are you alright?”

       She looked to him and realized it was Spain, “Oh…” she was dazed for a second but the smile didn’t fade, “…yes, Antonio, I’m fine! Haha, I know now not to climb ever again with a dress.”

       She walked over to her ripped dress-pieces and plopped them in the trash a couple feet from the bench.  Kallistrate wiggled her arm at the dangling ripped sleeve, or what was left of it. Spain sighed in relief, “I saw the fall. You had more worried there, querida. I thought you might have broken your arm.”

       She proved him wrong with a punch to his torso, “Ha!”

       In a second notice, she blushed by his concern, and asked, “Hold on, Antonio, why aren’t you in the meeting?”

       Sealand was busy attempting to the climb the towering tree to join the conversation. Spain looked from the little country to her and answered, “I saw you from up there. I couldn’t believe you were climbing a tree as big as that in the middle of a meeting, let alone with that dress on. Besides,” he raised his hand to reveal her parasol, “You left this.”

       She took it, “Thank you, I almost always forget about it. Anything interesting going on in there?” referring to the world meeting. He shook his head with a chuckle, “No, just more bickering, nothing getting solved.”

       She laughed in agreement, “What were the topics this time?”

       Spain stepped into the shade more, “Same old, same old. Mostly the affair of Syria.”

       “I see.” She replied. With a step back, Kallistrate opened up the dark parasol and rested the pole at her right shoulder, “Hey Sealand!”

       He stopped squirming at the climb, “Kallistrate?”

       “What’s your name?”

       “Peter Kirkland!” he took a quick glance at Spain, back to her and called, “Athanasia, that’s how you say it?”

       “Yeah… So, Peter,” She winked, “I’ll see you at the next conference, da?”

       He grinned, “Yeah!”

       With that, she turned to leave the grove.

       “Wait, Athanasia! You’re not coming back to this meeting?” Spain asked.

       She waved to Spain, “Nah. I can’t go in there with this crazy disaster.”

       She was right. Her ripped pantyhose revealed her olive skin, and a huge hole gaged all the way up to her thigh; and the dangling frills wavered in the air, as well as her ripped left sleeve, completely exposing her bare arm. The only thing that seemed intact was her ribbon-corset and black gloves.

       Sealand and Spain watched as she left the courtyard, the parasol shielding her from the sun and their gaze, and only the glint of the silver steel heels of her boots winked back to them.


	2. Kallistrate cooks with England!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was going to take this in either direction: Have him cook for her, or have them both cook. It's really leaning to both of them cooking at the moment xD  
> PS: Many apologies, I decided to cut it off and come back a whole chapter later. Thanks for the patience and read~!

**Mini-venture Two: Kallistrate cooks with England!**

Part One- Sudden Invitation

       Kallistrate raised a gloved hand to shield her eyes from the vivid sun that stretched its rays along the narrow street she immersed herself in. Even in a black and red themed Lolita dress in the middle of July, the bright daylight was the crucial element that infuriated her, not the timid heat resting at her shoulders.

       She was headed nowhere in particular; just pleased to look at her calendar this morning and discover not a single strip of troublesome plans this weekend. That of course did not count her usual outings with Liechtenstein, or the guitar sessions with her beloved amigo, Spain. She came here, in fact, to go for some old fashion parlor tricks with Belgium, but the country was busy spending time with her brother, Netherlands, this afternoon. Another plan gone blank.

       Taking a glance both ways, she crossed sidewalks, no effort needed to avoid any cars. The café a couples stores down caught her eye, for she was in the mood for some Greek frappe. She didn’t enjoy the coffee’s caffeine as much as the peculiar texture and strong taste. Kallistrate thought it over dully in her head when she reached the door to the coffee shop.

       With a slight heave, she opened the glass door, bracing in the strong gust of the AC’s cool air. A humbled bell atop rang her presence, and the young employed girl behind the counter smiled cordially in greeting, “Hello, what would you like today, ma’am?”

       She smiled in return and paid no attention to the vast menu of drinks behind the girl as she walked up, “Do you have any Greek… err, any iced coffee covered in some, uh, foam?” She didn’t really know how to ask a question. The cashier was a little fuddled by the odd request and replied, “Uhm, no, afraid not, miss. Our iced coffee doesn’t have much variety as to… ‘foam’, but if you want, I’d be happy to make a special-”

       “Oh no, quiet alright. Can I get…” she arched her neck awkwardly to gaze at the menu. There was no surprise they wouldn’t have the coffee she desired –this was Belgium after all. No longer in the mood to inquire on drinks, she continued with a heavy sigh, “…get a small Danish and a cup of… Dolce Crème fra…”

       She looked at the strange new word “Frappuccino” only to have the cashier finish the sentence, “The Crème Frappuccino? Coming right up! You pay on that side.” pointing to Kallistrate’s left. She nodded in appreciation and walked to the directed counter, pulling out her small parasol with her nestled wallet inside.

       The coffee was done, as well as warmed Danish; she paid, and was out of the café without much hesitation. She seemed a tad disappointed with this thick lathered beverage she purchased for, and slowly took small sips at the new texture. It was alright, but too sweet for her tastes.  While the streets appeared far from empty, the coffee shop and it’s seating were quite bare. As if a loss for the atmosphere around her, Kallistrate took a seat at one of the outside tables on the side of the oblique building and began nibbling on her Danish. At least the pastry was something she was familiar with.

       “Belgium’s pastries are better than her own shops…” Kallistrate mumbled bitterly to herself. As if right on cue, she looked up to the street before her and noticed a young man wave in her direction. He tried to call out but a zooming car whizzed past, frightening him off the curb and back to the sidewalk behind him. She was puzzled and, without her glasses, couldn’t detect who it was from such a distance. And the gleaming suns bouncing reflections off car and shop windows increased the difficulty. He carried a small brief case, and wore quite an eccentric business suit. She wasn’t the only one with formal attire on a casual sunny day as this, it seemed.

       Finally, after a paly of hopping through and between moving cars and passing bikers, he made it across the street to her. Now the buildings looming shade made it hard to discern his face. The man took a breather and heaved a sighing hello.

       She recognized that heavy British accent.

       “Is that you, Arthur?”

       Gently dropping the case beside his feet, England tipped his fedora (which Kallistrate now noticed, hence the hidden factor of his blonde hair!) and greeted with a delighted smile, “Indeed it is, Athanasia. May I ask, how are you on such a bright noon?”

       Before answering, she forgot to try something. She got up, to his surprise, took a step away from her table and did a curtsy. He scoffed, “Oh, please, we’re not in that era anymore, don’t mock me darling.”

       She giggled, straightening up, “The Victorian era was such a lovely time for you. I enjoyed it very much.”

       He sighed, grabbing his case from the stoned street, “It was nice, I suppose, but the imperialism…”

       Kallistrate immediately changed the subject, now sitting down, “I’m great on this ‘bright noon’, aha. Curious, too; what are you doing here?”

       She tried to think back if Belgium mentioned England as a visitor but had trouble remembering their conversation at all. He cleared his throat, “Mind if I si-”

       “Oh, please…” Kallistrate gestured him to sit. He cleared his throat a second time, “Right, well, I was in London when Francis called about some things we needed to discuss,” he stopped to sit on the wired chair and lay his case by her half-empty coffee, “ and thought I’d pass through here, for a change, to see him. We have some papers to go over.” Tapping a finger at the suit cases handle.

       She crumbled her Danish wrapper and made a toss to the opened trash can a table away. It made it in and she looked back at England, “Ah, I see.”

       He continued, eyeing the Frappuccino, “Alas, I got tired of walking, and didn’t feel like calling a cab… I was thinking about foolishly heading back home. Now I am curious, what brings you here? Visiting Belgium again?”

       She finished an elongated sip of the cooled crème, “I was, yes, but she decided to hang out with her brother for today. Fickly but loving, that dear Bella can be. And I am too lazy to go back home.”

       His smile brightened, “Would you like to come with me? We’d be there by dinner, but I could cook you up something before heading out back to Turkey. I admit, we’d have to deal with Francis in a shortcoming, but other than that…”

       She was surprised by the sudden invitation, “Oh, I don’t want to be a burden!”

       England shook his head, “It would be a pleasure! The last visitor I had was Alfred, only a week ago, and you can well imagine how that turned out!”

       She laughed now, “You’re right, I can!”

       “Brilliant, I’ll take that as a yes?”

       Kallistrate nodded, “Sure, I’d love to. Despite that cooking reputation of yours.”

       She was only teasing, and he knew, “Those horrid lies… they aren’t completely true, you know.” He said with a wink.

       They both got up, Kallistrate completely forgetting her unfinished drink.

       He grabbed his case and they walked down the shaded street, side by side, “You’ve never had my cooking before, have you? You’d love my scones, I’m sure.”

       “No, I haven’t tried your food much, only at your parties. But I remember back, before being with Spain, that your culinary skills were a lot less successful. It has gotten better, da?”

       Bubbly laughter filled the summer air, and he replied it has at least been better since him and America parted ways…

**((to be continued -in le part 2! Thank you so much for reading!))**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I succumbed to the fandom's fannaming for Belgium (Bella) *^* don't judge, I figured when ever I draw that country I'll give her a better human name, so hush, darlings~!  
> //PS: Hope to update this chapter soon, but I may cut it off and return to it later? Don't know just yet...//  
> ^Decided to cut it off


	3. Kallistrate plays the piano from Austria!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a previous WM, Austria invites Kallistrate to learn and play piano with him; and of course she couldn't resist! But the poor country forgot to consider one thing: Hungary's jealousy! Can she find a way to learn piano without the envious Hungary getting in her way? Or, even better, diverse a plan from the very start to get those two back together?!
> 
> So lame, that summary was XD  
> Anyways, yup, expect a lot of music rambling (And NO, I don't play piano, so please forgive any errors beforehand)

**Mini-ventures three: Kallistrate plays the piano from Austria!**

 

 

         “Going out again?” Greece yawned, glancing at his older sister. She was slipping on her lace-up socks, glancing up to see him picking up Constantine, her loyal cat.

         “Not exactly…” her eyes drifted from him back to her feet, “Roderich bid me for a music session. I told him my interest in learning the piano at the last meeting and, you know how he is about that particular instrument. He immediately felt dignified to help me learn the basics at least. Such a gentleman, I couldn’t resist. Do you mind me gone for another couple hours?”

         He walked in his leisurely pace to her, sat down at the shoe bench, and propped her cat at his knees, “I don’t mind.”

         She was done strapping her black mary janes and reached over to pet the cat. The feline (a “him” of whim, the lame pun Kallistrate went by), instantly purred at the soft touch, and she smiled again, “I may come home earlier than expected…”

         Her brother wasn’t expecting this, for he felt quite certain Austria’s home was not too far from theirs and directly asked, “Why?”

         Constantine lost balance at Greece’s knees and urgently leapt off as to not fall. He landed perfectly on all fours and, with his thrashing tail whishing the humid air of the house, walked away. Kallistrate got up from the shoe bench, “I’m worried about how Elizabeta will feel about me being around Roderich. Maybe she’d feel jealous? Or am I just overthinking it? ”

         Greece’s face was blank, clearly giving her the satisfying answer. She grabbed her black petticoat on the rack just above her, “Maybe it’s both…”

         “Will anyone else be there?”

         She began buttoning up the coat against her red blouse, “I… don’t know. Forgot to ask, it seems. Yet, I doubt anyone else arriving. I expect I will be his only pupil this evening.”

         He nodded in agreement. With a light tap on each foot, she already was at the door. She creaked it open, revealing the elongated steps below to the second floor of the large house and turned to her brother, “Wish me luck, Heracles?”

         “Luck does not favor hesitation.” He replied with a small grin. She understood what he was saying, and closely rushed down the steps, mumbling to herself, “Oh, you and your Roman wisdom, dear brother…” 

 

 

_Please don’t answer the door…_  Kallistrate worried herself in her thoughts. She bit her lip as she waited almost petulantly at the front door of Austria’s manor.

_Don’t answer it, please. Oh goodness, did he even tell her? Does she know? Should I even be here?_  more pointless questions roamed her head. A couple silent seconds past, but nobody came to the door. She hovered her gloved finger at the door bell, the near twitch to ring it again _, Roderich, you better have told her. I only want to learn the piano, nothing more… please don’t answer the door E-_

         “Elizabeta!” Kallistrate nervously exclaimed to Hungary. Hungary opened the door with a smiling greeting, only to be taken aback by Kallistrate’s unanticipated visit. Both stared at each other in surprise for a moment before Kallistrate cleared her throat, “H-hello, Elizabeta!”

         In her customs, Kallistrate was about to reach over and kiss Hungary’s cheeks, but decided against it and slightly beamed instead. Hungary returned the trivial smile, “Hello, Athanasia. What brings you all the way up here? If you’re looking for Ludwig, he isn’t with Roderich at the moment.”

         Kallistrate would have blushed at Germany’s name if it wasn’t for Hungary’s cold tone, and replied, “No, not at all. Eh…”

_Oh, why did you not tell her, Roderich?! Obviously she cares, the poor dear!_

         “… I wanted to learn to play piano.”

         She knew the answer was vague but _, the less details the less suspicion, right? Oh, no, I think it’s the other way around._

         Hungary’s mind clicked instantly of Kallistrate’s purpose here, “He is upstairs. Listen for the piano.” And walked away in a rather harsh brisk pace, leaving the entrance wide open. Kallistrate cumbersomely walked in, her mary-janes causing slight taps against the marbled floor; and once more, she bit her lip, regretting the mute steps she wanted to take and receiving pesky taps instead.

         She made it up a flight of stairs, noticing the direction of sound rebating a large open loft at the top of the steps. Austria sat at the piano’s bench, playing a tune she had never heard before. It was light, with redundant strokes to the keys in a rapid haste motion, adding quickness to the light piece. As she walked towards him, her mind boggled around the idea of the tune’s intent - whether it was a thrilling demise or giddy happy song.

         The quiet country waited for him to complete the piece. She stood at his side, eyeing the playful dance his fingers played against the newly waxed white keys. His eyes paid no attention to the open music book before him, nor his own working hands; in fact, under those spectacles of his, his eyes were shut in serenity, or concentration. Possibly both. Finally, the pace slowed, with plucks of sighing open keys, until the music drone completed entirely. Austria couldn’t help a slight smirk before revolving from the bench to Kallistrate, “How was that, Ms. Karpusi?”

         She was used to his formalities by now and responded honestly, “Wonderful, sir. Mind me asking, what particular eh ‘purpose’ was that tune for?”

         He straightened his tailor coat, “An odd ring to it, wasn’t there? On the other hand, perhaps just the pace entirely. The title of that piece, Revolutionary Etude, is a personal favorite of mine.”

         “Oh?”

         “The amount of emotion poured into it is very moving, and quite nice, for someone as I to play when in the mood.”

         “With such virtuoso as you, I could only hope it’s as frivolling as it sounds.” She complimented. Austria gestured her to sit, and she gladly obeyed. Her frilled dress nearly covered the entire space between them on the bench, and she quickly tried her best to straighten it down. Austria did not mind, and already began flipping through a beginner’s book beside the one he just played from. By the time she was done solving her issue, he laid the book back down and straightened his posture, “Alright, I am going to play Sofia La Notte. I will start off slow, and show you the keys for each hand individually. But first, let us only mimic and listen.” and without hesitation for his new pupil and her perplexity to the virtuoso shown, the keys were strummed once more.

          He played elegantly, with his gentle hands striking each key with passion too strong for Kallistrate to ever hope to imitate. Realizing he slowed down the music’s tempo, for her, she immediately corrected herself by emulating his key strokes on her side, without truly touching the keys.

         Like her mother, and her mother’s mother, Kallistrate was easily talented at art, and therefore, in this case, easy to replicate. As the tutor, Austria replayed the first verse of notes again, and she caught on quickly.  The song sounded effortless, felt effortless, and practically looked effortless.

         The two sat, side by side, reminiscing and creating new memory to retain, with the mantra at hand, right under their noses. A strumming teem, tutor to student, friend to friend, together and solo. Kallistrate, a lowered gaze of lashes, treasured the past when Austria used to play for her and other fellow countries. A gift, she thought, that he never truly realized giving to others. She always adored that about him. The only time she has witnessed his blissful self, the way he glowed now, was when…

_When you used to be at Elizabeta’s side_ , Kallistrate winced, glancing at Austria’s shut eyes. She lost her concentration, and her side of the music stopped. He noticed, due to the clear declivity in melody, and laughed, straightening himself to begin again, “If I were to make rules to this piano playing, Athanasia, I’d start with: don’t lose that concentration.”

         She lay on the mask of fallaciousness once more, “Excuse me, please, Roderich. I almost felt a snooze creep from behind. I swear, the more I am with my brother, the more his sudden naps brush off onto me!”

         They sided the joke and continued to play. From below the flight of stairs from the loft, a less exultant country listened to their chatter and music. Hungary, never feeling more alone than she did right then and there, shook the sadness away that sulked at her dress and, with utter tartness, continued on to the kitchen in malevolence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have yet to update this all the way. So excuse the unfinished chapter until then
> 
> The note I would put if this chapter was completed finished, which as of this moment, isn't, 'cause I'm lame like that and lazy with editing: More to come! Thanks so much for reading, means a lot to me, as always. Apologies if you're a Hungary/Prussia fan (I'm personally a Hungary/Turkey shipper myself ;)), I just couldn't resist the semi-canon couple! ;u;


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